We arrive at Subway ten minutes later. The place is teeming with Hadfield High students and filthy construction guys on their lunch breaks. For a panicked moment I wonder if my dad might show up, but he always brings his own lunch to work, so it’s unlikely. Still, I can’t seem to fully relax, standing here with Ethan and his friends. My social skills are rusty at best.
A table opens up and Noelle and I dive for it, leaving our orders with the guys. The line is so long, I doubt we’ll get our subs in time to eat them here.
“How long have you known him?”
I tear my gaze away from a splotch of mustard on the table and focus on Noelle. She gestures over her shoulder to the guys, who are chatting while they wait. Once again, I get that surreal, time-warp feeling as I look at Ethan. Two seconds ago he was playing video games in his room and riding his bike down my street, and now he’s hanging out with cool seniors and driving his own car.
“A long time,” I tell her. “Since he was ten.”
I wait for her to ask about Aubrey next, if I offed her like everyone’s saying, but she doesn’t.
“What was he like back then?”
My gaze skips to Ethan again, registering the wide, sturdy set of his shoulders and the way his black hoodie makes his eyes seem even darker. “Nothing like he is now,” I reply honestly. “He used to be shy and kind of geeky and now he’s this . . . guy in a band.”
“Musicians,” she says with a long-suffering sigh. “They’re my one major weakness.” She smiles and leans across the table, like she’s about to divulge a secret. “They have good hands.”
A laugh bubbles up in my throat, and I press my lips together to keep it inside. Noelle takes one look at my expression and cracks up. She’s still laughing when the boys arrive with our lunch.
“What’s going on over here?” Hunter asks as he claims the seat next to her.
I try not to look at his hands. Or at Ethan’s, when he slides my meatball sub toward me.
“Nothing,” Noelle says, tearing into her turkey wrap. “Dara was just asking about Realm.”
For a moment I’m confused, then it clicks in that Realm is the name of their band. Recovering quickly, I chime in with, “Yeah, I was wondering if, um, the other guys lived around here.”
Ethan shakes his head. “Corey and Kel live in Brentwood.”
“Oh.” This explains why I’ve never seen Kel around. Brentwood is a small town about ten miles south of here.
My face must look weird or something because Noelle narrows her eyes at me, suspicious. “Please don’t tell me you fell for whatever line Kel gave you the day you came over. That boy hits on anything with a pulse.”
“He’s shameless,” Hunter confirms, flicking a lock of shaggy blond hair out of his eyes. “We only keep him around for his voice.”
“Resist him, Dara. Stay strong.”
I wash down the food in my mouth with a sip of Coke. “No problem,” I assure her. Falling under Kel’s spell—under any guy’s spell—is the last thing I need right now.
We finish eating with two minutes to spare. On the way back to school, Noelle asks me if I’m going to Hunter’s house tomorrow afternoon so I can finally meet the rest of the band and hear them play.
“Maybe,” I say, glancing at Ethan. He smiles and shrugs one shoulder. I still know him well enough to decipher his body language, so I know he’s telling me he’s fine with it, but it’s totally up to me. I give him a tiny nod in response.
“She’ll be there,” he tells Noelle.
I wait until after lunch the next day to tell my mother I’m going out. When I add the words “with a friend,” her entire body freezes and she stares at me like I just told her I made the honor roll.
“A friend? Who?” She snaps her laptop closed and sets it beside her on the couch.
“Just this girl from my chemistry class. We’re going for a walk. No big deal.” I plan to tell her about Ethan and the band . . . eventually. Just not today.
“This is a big deal, Dara. It’s been a while since—”
She clams up as Tobias passes by the living room on his way to the bathroom. He and Dad have been outside all day, replacing rotten boards on the back porch. They’ve been doing this a lot lately, hanging out together, undoubtedly bonding over their mutual wariness toward me. Tobias hasn’t spoken to me since I yelled at him—even though I apologized three times—and Dad continues to be confounded by me.
“We’re just hanging out,” I tell Mom, who’s got this dopey grin on her face like she’s imagining sleepovers and cookie-baking and study sessions—all the things I used to do with Aubrey. “I barely know her.”
She opens her mouth to respond but the doorbell cuts her off this time. We both go to answer it.
“Hi,” Noelle chirps. “Are you ready, Dara?”
I nod and grab my jacket.
“I’m Noelle,” she says to my mom, and then sticks out her right hand.
Mom shakes it, her eyes doing a quick scan of my new friend’s bright hair and nose ring. “Noelle. What a pretty name.”
“Well, I was a Christmas Eve baby, so . . .” She shrugs and unleashes a dazzling smile. My mom visibly relaxes.
“Have fun, Dara,” she tells me. “Bring your phone.”
I hold up my cell. “Got it.”
Outside, Noelle and I head for the sidewalk in silence. Once we’re a safe distance from my house, I say, “Sorry about that. My mom tends to hover.”
She waves a hand. “I’m good with moms. They always seem to trust me immediately. It’s the freckles, I think.”
“You didn’t have to come to my house, you know. We could’ve just met at Hunter’s.”
“I don’t mind walking with you,” she says with a smile.
I focus on my limbs, making sure they’re a good distance from hers. Walking alongside someone on the sidewalk, with the street mere inches away, makes me nervous. Luckily, Noelle doesn’t seem to notice. She babbles on, filling me in on her family (just her and her mom), why they moved here (her parents split up and her mother wanted to be near her relatives) and how she likes living in Hyde Creek (better than her old town). By the time we reach Hunter’s backyard, I feel like I’ve been officially befriended. Pretty brave of her, considering what happened to my last friend.
There’s no sign of music as we draw closer to the shed. The door is closed over partway and Noelle yanks it open, stepping in ahead of me. “I got her,” she announces.
The interior is dark and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust. When they do, I see a cramped space with thin blue carpeting on the floor and walls plastered with album covers and posters of band logos. On my left, Hunter sits behind an elaborate drum kit that eats up most of the square footage. Ethan crouches beside him, adjusting dials on an amp. Cradled in his arms is a steel-gray guitar I’ve never seen him play. The Ethan I knew before only played acoustic. Classical acoustic. And violin. This gleaming beast strapped to his chest is yet another addition to the long list of things he’d acquired while I was away.